


Food for Thought

by girlintheglen



Series: Quickies ... Under 1000 Words [26]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-13 18:01:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29655150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlintheglen/pseuds/girlintheglen
Summary: How things begin is always important.
Series: Quickies ... Under 1000 Words [26]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/871542
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	Food for Thought

Illya was looking pensive. Not an entirely uncommon expression for the sometimes dour Russian agent, but this time Napoleon thought he’d risk asking if there was a particular reason for it on this beautiful day.

“Say there Ruskie, what’s with the mood?” Illya didn’t immediately respond, mainly because he disliked the reference to his nationality. He cut his eyes to the man he was partnered with here in New York, questioning once more with a warning in his expression, why destiny had done this to him.

“I beg your pardon.” Ice cold. Napoleon almost stepped back a little, but resisted the temptation.

“Uh, well… I was just wondering why you seem sort of down. How about lunch, it’s gorgeous outside and, well… you should eat.”

The response was slow in coming, but Illya Kuryakin was a man who was always ready for a meal. He couldn’t recall very many times in his life when he had actually been full.

“I accept your invitation, but only because I am genuinely hungry, not because I think the day is particularly good.” The blond head turned back to the same fixed expression, his lack of good manners noted by Napoleon.

“Okay then… ‘ _What could be eating at this guy?_ “I think Luigi’s sounds about right. Does that work for you?”

This question struck an entirely different chord. The effort to be friendly was not entirely lost on the young man, and he immediately chastised himself for having been so surly with the American agent.

Blue eyes looked across the room at the man he called partner. Napoleon Solo was a decent enough fellow, and all he’d done is greet Illya with a slightly fractured reference to him being a Soviet citizen. He was entirely too sensitive, and in truth, he didn’t favor the image of a brooding Russian. It was not genuine, merely an affectation to keep people at a distance.

“I apologize Napoleon, for my rudeness. I suppose something just overtook my mood.” And then the expression became almost carefree, as though a veil had been raised in order to reveal the true nature of the man. Napoleon let out a sigh of relief.

“Nothing to apologize for Illya. We all get a little overwhelmed by the job sometimes.’ Napoleon Solo knew the strain of their profession, and being a Soviet on American soil couldn’t be easy, at least not yet. His job, at least part of it, was to make the transition a bit easier for his new partner.

“Let’s go get that lunch, we can snuggle up to some pasta and meatballs.” The grin on Solo’s face was contagious, and suddenly Illya Kurykin didn’t feel like an intruder on a culture he didn’t yet understand completely.

“It sounds as though you intend to make love to your food.” That elicited a laugh from Napoleon.

“Hey, I’ve seen you eat. That’s sort of what it look like my friend.”

Friend. That sounded better than lunch to the Russian.


End file.
